


avoid the bookings, beloved

by karnsteins



Series: cause tramps like us, baby we were born to run [5]
Category: The Outsiders - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha Dallas Winston, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Canon-Typical Violence, Displays of Alpha Aggressiveness Gone Wrong, Established Relationship, Feral Behavior, Feral Dallas Winston, Heats and Ruts, M/M, Mafia!Dallas Winston, Sexual Frustration, a shift key? i don't know her, dallas winston: still committing crime as an adult, omega ponyboy curtis, ponyboy: local town librarian who pretends not to know
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:14:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27052495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karnsteins/pseuds/karnsteins
Summary: dallas winston knows the system very, very well. he knows that if you're picked up on a friday, you don't get to see a judge for bail until monday. he always keeps that in mind, until one time he doesn't.
Relationships: Ponyboy Curtis/Dallas Winston
Series: cause tramps like us, baby we were born to run [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1969333
Kudos: 35





	1. avoid the bookings, beloved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "you're really making it harder on yourself than it ought to be, man," dallas can't keep the grin off of his face, despite the words coming out of his mouth. he liked it when someone made it harder than it had to be, really. collecting debts for loan sharks was a fun way to blow of steam, and the squirming idiot who he's got caught is always fun to toy with.

"you're really making it harder on yourself than it ought to be, man," dallas can't keep the grin off of his face, despite the words coming out of his mouth. he liked it when someone made it harder than it had to be, really. collecting debts for loan sharks was a fun way to blow of steam, and the squirming idiot who he's got caught is always fun to toy with.

they're behind his restaurant, the alleyway quiet. as soon as dallas had seen the balding man step out for a smoke, he had pounced. going through the front door was never smart, and it was always better for business if he caught people by surprise rather than give them the time to react. he shoved the man against the wall again, towering over him and his beady little eyes and sweat slick forehead. "all you had to do is pay up to nunes, and you wouldn't have to see my fucking face." he shoved him again, harder, and the idiot squeaks. "what are you doing all day, albert, huffing up the cash? i _know_ you have it."

"pl-please, dallas," albert squeaks out, because he knows exactly what's coming. he knows dallas is bored right now, toying with him, and as soon as dallas _stops_ being bored it's going to be worse. "i-i-i h-had-- i had s-s-."

this man was twice his age, stuttering like an idiot. "i-i-i-," dallas mocks him, "that's not an answer." 

there's a sound on the street, of someone walking by. albert's eyes shift over, he lunges. dallas is faster, hand clasping firm on his mouth, scowling at just how much this pig could sweat. his teeth bite down on dallas' hand -- and instantly dallas swings before he thinks, landing a hard hit in his chest. albert gags, dallas swings again. the person continues by, and dallas decides that he's had a enough of toying around. 

there's no thinking involved; he simply moves effortlessly, belts albert right in the side of his face, the skull ring splitting open his skin right at the temple. normally, the scent of blood would make him wind down just enough to warn that it can get worse, that if they didn't want a scene, he could stop. 

tonight, it hits that place in him that craves violence, that really marks him as feral. the smile that splits his face is wide, menacing even if he can't see it. the fear coming off of albert hits him, and his fist draws back. he keeps hitting him, and hitting him, it's not like a rumble where a guy could fight back, it's not really like a gang fight, but albert is helpless and weak, and the aggression that dallas has been holding back _needs_ an outlet. it creates a buzzy, high feeling for him as he lets it all out, and not even the feeling of blood on his hands or hitting his face makes him reconsider his actions in the moment. 

when albert is on the ground, whimpering and moaning from the pain, dallas' grin is wide, and there's blood on his shirt and on his face, "you get the picture, albert? you finally fucking get it?" he cocks his leg back for a good kick to the ribs. "you wouldn't have this happen if you _paid what you owed!_ " he kicks albert again, and the man wheezes with the force. 

dallas has a mind to kick him again when he hears, "freeze! freeze right now!" he turns his head -- two cops are on the other side of the alley, guns raised. dallas sneers at them, and raises his hands. 

he was going to get dragged in. of course. 

he has a half mind to spit on albert as they pull his arms back to be cuffed, the adrenaline, the ramped up hormones still clouding him. the rational part of his mind is telling him not to do anything stupid, but for the life of him, it takes him awhile to think about exactly why. "can you go any faster?" he snaps at the cops, and for his troubles, he gets shoved against the cop car roughly. his adrenaline is still going, and the shove, at least, rattles some sense into him. 

enough for dallas to realize, as the cops start to process him what day it is. what time of month it is. 

there's a panicked moment where he considers fighting his way out of there, where he considers the quickest way out. that he has to dismiss it as soon as he remembers where he is, and that more than likely, there are more cops out there tonight. he knows that they're going to book him as soon as they can, and he knows exactly how the system works and how very, very hard he's screwed up, all because he had to beat the point into albert. 

when the cop comes back around, his hand presses dallas' face further into the car to make a point. "i've seen you around, winston. well, it's your lucky day it's a friday, isn't it?" face pressed against the cop car, hands pressed firmly against his shoulder blades, and dallas winston has never hated a cop more in his life.

he swears under his breath as he's hauled up. the urge to spit in the cop's face is overwhelming, but he's dragged to the car, shoved in like a sack of potatoes. he hits the side of the cruiser, and never in his life has dallas regretted taking a swing on someone who deserved it. 

the only way to vent his rage is by yelling, kicking the floor of the cruiser, straining against the cuffs. all the way to the station, he keeps quiet, unwilling to let them hear or see him rage, and the bookings, he adopts a bored face even though he's feeling angry and dreading what he knows he has to do. he's almost antsy, and when the proceedings wind down, he barks out, "can i get my fucking call?" 

"yeah, winston," the cop sneers, dragging him to the phones, "you can have your one call."

they're dumb, useless cops and dallas knows they think he'll be calling nunes. he doesn't give a flying fuck about nunes as he dials out. the line picks up on the third ring. "hello?" ponyboy's voice sounds tired over the line already, strained. "this better not be--"

"pone, it's me," dallas rushes out immediately, keeping his voice down. 

" _dal?_ " his voice is a little high in response, dallas grimacing in response. "where are you?"

god, he had to twist the knife, huh? dallas grips the phone tighter, "listen pone-- i'm at the station. the fuzz picked me up." pony's voice inhales sharply on the other line, and while dallas doesn't want to spell it out, he knows ponyboy. it's likely that he forgot, so he has to let the words come out, "i-- fuck, it's friday night, pony. i don't get before a judge for bail and all that shit until monday morning." the sharp intake on the line is so bad, and dallas knows he can't get out of this one. "i'm not-- i'm gonna miss the first few days of heat. i didn't-- fuck, i'm sorry." 

it's something he doesn't say often. he's usually not sorry for anything and if one wanted to get technical, he wasn't very sorry about what he'd been picked up for. so _what_ if he was hassling some guy about a debt he owed? he owed it, and dallas was there to collect. the issue was the way it was going to affect him and pony, that was what mattered. 

they'd been mated since pony was fourteen. seven years on, and they'd never missed a heat nor a rut together. never. dallas had always been careful, had always remembered not to do anything stupid or risky, and now he had. 

ponyboy takes a breath, measured. dallas wishes he wouldn't; he wishes in that moment that he was more like sylvia who would have cursed him out for doing this. he wishes that ponyboy would yell, tell him to fuck off, not this, the way ponyboy sounds so fucking calm despite both of them knowing that in a few hours, they'd both be feeling like shit, "it's-- it ain't _okay_. i know you though, i know you didn't do it on purpose, dal." 

dallas wishes so badly he wouldn't be so fucking kind. that's ponyboy though, and he has to hunch his shoulders up. "i'm gonna make it up, as soon as i get out on monday. i swear, pone." 

"you better," is the most angry he's gonna get out of ponyboy. "just keep your head on. i can make the call you need, okay? i love you, dallas. i mean it." 

some of dallas' nerves soothe, and some of them flare up in response because fuck, he doesn't deserve that. not now. "i'll see you monday. i swear, pony." 

there's a buzz, and the phone line drops automatically. dallas wants to punch the damn thing in anger, wants to punish himself for this. that'll get him nowhere fast, so he has to put the phone down, and dread the rest of this oncoming weekend with no one except himself to blame. by the time he's in a cell for the weekend, he feels as if he deserves it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i did, indeed, base a fic on a desus nice tweet lmfao. comments, kudos, holler at me on tumblr, i'm @traumapeaks.


	2. sunday frustration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the hot slide of his fingers past his rim, the stroke of his fingers inside of him, doesn't alleviate anything no matter how he tries. the orgasm that ponyboy is seeking, that he's trying to hard to get, still doesn't happen. he sobs uselessly into the couch, fingers still working through the excessive amount of slick he has, still trying to chase the feeling, the pleasure he wants. his thighs are coated in slick that seems to spill everywhere. the couch is going to need to have the deepest cleaning they can manage, and even as he gets right to the edge again, ponyboy doesn't come.

the hot slide of his fingers past his rim, the stroke of his fingers inside of him, doesn't alleviate anything no matter how he tries. the orgasm that ponyboy is seeking, that he's trying to hard to get, still doesn't happen. he sobs uselessly into the couch, fingers still working through the excessive amount of slick he has, still trying to chase the feeling, the pleasure he wants. his thighs are coated in slick that seems to spill everywhere. the couch is going to need to have the deepest cleaning they can manage, and even as he gets right to the edge again, ponyboy doesn't come.

it's wretched.

he's been at it for hours, trying to force one, trying to get some relief. his cock is so hard that it's painful, running so hot against his skin that the heat almost hurts, his fingers trying to fuck as deep into him as he thinks he can manage, and he can't get a single one out of his body. every fleeting thought he has about dallas just makes him all the more aroused, makes him create so much slick that it's maddening, and he can't even properly work himself right up to the right _edge_ of an orgasm even if he tries to jerk off.

a whimper leaves him when his fingers do, collapsing onto the couch. the empty ache in him feels even worse, but his arms are tired, and he thinks if he tries again he might get sore. 

it's only sunday. the heat came up on him on saturday and for the first few hours, he had tossed and turned, tried to work an orgasm with a quick jerk off, only to get something weak and insubstantial. took some aspirin to try and sleep through it only to wake up to a slick soaked bed and a hard on that he couldn't shake and ponyboy was sure he hadn't slept ever since, trying to ride out his heat alone through any means possible. 

his pride was past the point of caring that he was mostly enduring sobs now, the heat so intense that he couldn't bear it. dallas was in jail until at least _monday_ — a fact that made him angry and desperate every time it ran around head. they'd been together for years, without ever missing a heat until now. whatever ruts that dallas had alone, they were all before they had ever mated. the thought that they'd miss one together, ponyboy hadn't considered it. he always trusted that whatever trouble dallas found himself in, he could get himself out of it. he's always been mindful before, it wasn't something that ever was on the table as a feasible thing to worry about. 

and now...

a shudder ran through him. his mind couldn't even concentrate fully, thinking of all the times dallas had pinned him to the couch or the bed with his hands, eyes flashing. all the times his fangs had nipped at ponyboy's ears or his throat, when he'd laugh against pony's ear when he'd wrung out his first orgasm with his finger, when he'd angled a thrust just _so_ that left ponyboy seeing stars, or when his mouth had settled right on his hole, had slipped his tongue inside and—

his hips work against the couch again, against the slick there. he whines, wishes he'd thought to have a dildo in the house, anything to give him relief. desperately, ponyboy holds the thoughts of it, of dallas' fingers spreading his ass, the feel of his breath as he looked at his slicked up cunt, of how good it always felt to have his fingers slip inside, especially when it was his ring ponyboy could feel in him. "fuck, _fuck—!_ "

for the very first time that weekend, he orgasms. his legs shake, his vision goes white, and he doesn't stop fucking himself with his fingers, not caring about the mess he'd make, just wanting to orgasm, wanting it to never stop. 

mercifully, the orgasm is powerful enough that ponyboy loses consciousness for a little while. 

he wakes up hours later, and can't help but sob when he realizes that it's _still_ sunday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> poor pony. good thing dallas has a slick kink, i suppose. see you guys for the next chapter. comment, kudos, come yell at me over on tumblr.


End file.
